


Flapper Girl

by likesunshinetome



Category: Bloodlines Series - Richelle Mead, Vampire Academy & Related Fandoms, Vampire Academy (2014), Vampire Academy Series - Richelle Mead
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Angst, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Prohibition, Smoking, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 21:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15566661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likesunshinetome/pseuds/likesunshinetome
Summary: Rose's especially hurtful brand of retaliation: a haircut / 1920s AU inspired by The Lumineers song





	Flapper Girl

“Nice haircut,” Dimitri noted dryly, his accent slightly more pronounced, just as it was whenever I managed to rile him up.  _ Perfect.  _ I put on a voice for him so sweet it was almost sticky when I finally dignified him with a response.

“And how was your trip?” He ignored me, but kept pace with me as I walked across town to Lissa’s. Dimitri could pretend all he wanted the haircut didn’t bother him, but I kept catching him steal glances at me. I’d even seen him stop mid-stride and stare when he first noticed it. 

Yes, I had at one point promised him that I wouldn’t follow the flapper craze and cut all my hair off. He told he often how much he loved my hair, and when he would wrap the long locks around his fist and pull gently, I would get lost in him. Still, he promised me he would quit that awful business job he hated so much and stop going on those trips. So when I woke up the morning after our date to an empty bed and a note on the kitchen table, after he said he wouldn’t go, I wasn’t so happy. I never promised not to be spiteful.

“So do you even care about cutting it all off, having brand new hair?” He asked me, and I rolled my eyes at him. We were so close to Lissa’s house, I have no idea why he’s deciding to have it out with me right now. I don’t even know why he decided to walk me.

“It’s not even that short. Or different” I replied, casually. Before, my hair hung just past my breasts. Now, it bounces just at my shoulders. Plenty of girls have it shorter, even Lissa and Sydney. The misery of this conversation was finally ending as we headed up her front steps. I thought the message was pretty obvious: I didn’t want to be seeing him right now. Or at all, anymore, after this.

“Are you sure? It seems awfully like a flapper girl’s haircut to me.” God, if I was even considering getting back together with him before, all of that was out the window now.

“Is that your subtle way of calling me a slut?” I shot right back, and slammed Lissa’s front door right in his face before he had a chance to respond.

...

I didn’t go back to his house that night. Or the next. Or any day since he got home, so the next time he managed to find me and grill me about the haircut was when he found me walking to the club. I was just following the route of the shoes hanging on the powerlines, one distinct pair I knew to be Eddie’s boots. I had only been once before, again when I was trying to get a rise out of Dimitri, but I knew the place as soon as I saw it. Painfully obvious that it was a speakeasy, the only thing guarding the whole place was one guard, Mikhail, of all people, asking for a password.

“Buria,” I replied easily. Mikhail’s eyes passed over me and onto Dimitri, who was hovering.

“This guy with you?” He asked, nodding towards DImitri. I tossed a wry glance at him over my shoulder. I have no idea how he didn’t understand the message, but as far as Christian told me, Dimitri thinks I’m ‘still his lady.’ Well, if he insisted, so be it. I turned back to Mikhail and finally gave in.

“I guess so.” Mikhal opened the door for us, and Dimitri took my invitation into the club as an invitation for a conversation. He put a hand on the small of my back and started leading me to the bar, and began speaking.

“So you really are a flapper now, huh? A dancer? Working here?” He didn’t dignify me with eye contact, so I watched him flag down the bartender and order us both a drink. l let Dimitri sink into the stupidity of his questions as I waited for the alcohol, because I would need it. He must know I’m not out to be a flapper. I was absolutely not dressed the part, I have absolutely no experience or practice, and no matter how much he hates the haircut, it’s still not as short as a flappers. As soon as the drink was set down in front of me, I grabbed it, stood up to be even with him and got right in Dimitri’s face.

“I’m not a flapper, but now that you mention it, I think I will just try it out.” I spun on my heel, knowing he must have felt the rage seeping through me. God, that man could get under my skin. Still, I know how to get under his, too. I turned into Mason’s welcoming arms, and asked him if he would ever let me dance on stage, after all, he did practically run this club.

“I have an opening next Friday. You could be the headliner, Rosie, they’d love you up there. I wouldn’t mind it myself, either.” I giggled at his flirting, and turned fractionally to Dimitri. The look on his face told me he certainly heard it all. I could still feel his hot glare as I turned back to Mason.

“Next Friday sounds perfect for me!”

…

I was surprised (and surprisingly upset) when I didn’t see Dimitri that whole next week. I figured maybe I had finally driven him away, so I threw myself into learning my routine. After all, it’s what I wanted. There are plenty of fish in the sea, losing one, sexy, perfect, Russian one meant nothing to me, clearly. So when next Friday rolled around, I was ready, sort of. I knew everyone would love it, and it would look great up there under the lights, but I knew the only man I actually wanted to see it wouldn’t be showing up. Still, I made a promise, so I walked right over there and let Lissa help get me into my dress and jewelry and makeup. 

“You know, you really should cut your hair a little shorter before the performance,” Lissa had been telling me for the past week, and she reminded me again as she lifted my hair back to tie my necklace. I laughed her off, but felt a little defensive about my brand new hair. Did no one like it?

“Well, I like the way you pinned it back tonight, so I’ll just keep it as is.” I replied, fidgeting in my seat.

“Nervous?” Lissa remarked, and I nodded quickly. How could I not be? God, this is stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This isn’t even me. And I couldn’t stop bouncing as I considered that maybe I really had driven Dimitri away for good. Lissa simply took my hands, just as Mason was calling five minutes to curtain up. “You’re going to be amazing. And you look beautiful. And this is supposed to be fun, right? But if you need me to make a huge fit while you dance so you have an excuse to get off stage, just find me in the crowd and make a signal.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Damn, Lissa is a good best friend. I hugged her one last time before she went out into the audience and I took my place on stage.

I vaguely heard Mason announcing my name with some complimentary adjectives, and I felt the hush go over the crowd as the lights went down. Damn, I never remember it being this quiet the last few times I’ve been in the club. The curtains were drawing up, and a few thoughts ran through my head: running offstage, jumping into the crowd, even going all the way to Dimitri’s house and  _ apologizing,  _ of all things. Instead, I began my routine. 

And then immediately almost stopped it. Sitting right in the center of the crowd, Dimitri rose an eyebrow at me as I fumbled. I recovered quickly, and I’m sure no one else even saw it, but Dimitri knows me too damn well. The dance was basically in my bones with the amount I had practiced it. My body kept moving, even though my eyes and mind couldn’t get off Dimitri. I watched him try to hide the annoyance he had with me doing this. Still, I saw the annoyance turn to intrigue, and intrigue turn to lust as my dance went on. His eyes darkened, and I could practically hear his smokey voice,  _ such a tease, Roza,  _ in that heavy accent, and, God, now maybe I feel the lust too. I just danced through it all, though.

The routine ended, and I wasn’t sure if it had been seconds or hours. The crowd loved it, and I bowed a few times as they shoved dollars, and fittingly, roses, towards me. I grabbed them, and thanked everybody, but I couldn’t fathom what to do next after I dropped them at my dressing room. Everything was going by ina haze. I wanted so badly to run straight into Dimitri’s arms, but that would just prove him right. I had resolved to break up with him, and I was holding to it, even if he wouldn’t. I was being stupid, and stubborn, and I know it, and I couldn’t face him just to say no to him, not after that, but I can’t say yes, either. So I made the adult choice: to hide. I grabbed a cigarette, and snuck out to the fire escape and sat out there. It was the most quiet I’d heard all night, and the most at peace I’ve been in awhile  I was so lost in thought, I hadn’t even noticed him standing there until I looked away from the rings of smoke I was blowing.

Dimitri stood on the pavement, looking up at me, almost like he was studying me. He took in my hair first, of course. Lissa had pinned back elaborately with these beautiful gold pins, and his eyes moved down to my neck, where sat several strings of pearls. Then down my breasts and waist and hips, the little dress, fringe fancily decorated with a mix of pearls and gold and other adornments. Then down my bare legs, to the killer heels I wore. I could see his swallow from the fire escape. His arousal couldn’t have been clearer. Still, of all the comments he could have made, he landed on,

“You must be cold.” I laughed lightly, but I did see my breath because of the chill of outside air.

“You seemed hot in there.” I shot back, and he shrugged. He kept staring up at me, and I squirmed under his inspection. “Well, you like the show?” I asked, trying to distract him, and this time it was his turn to laugh.

“Rose, I loved the show, couldn’t you tell?” His reply confused me in so many ways. Weren’t we broken up? Didn’t he hate the thought of me as a flapper? Why’d he even come out here? God, what this man does to me.

“Oh, why’d you have to be the one to come out here?” I whined, burying my face in my hands. He contemplated it, and met my eyes again as I lifted my head.

“Reminds me a little of Romeo and Juliet. You, up on a balcony, wondering why I have to be the one you fall in love with. Me, down her, just trying to love you.” Then he did the thing that surprised me most since he got back, more than walking with me, or coming to the bar, or even liking the show: he tossed his duster up to me as a peace offering, and turned to walk away. He spoke as he went, and I hung on every word, “Well don’t you worry Juliet, we’ll have a happy ending. Put on the coat and lose the cig, and you’ll live long enough to see it.”

And like that, he was gone. I put out the butt of the smoke, and wrapped myself in his coat. The warmth was nice, but more so, it smelled like him, his aftershave and sweat, and I sank right into it. In that moment, I decided I miss him.

…

I had no idea when I would be seeing him again. I didn’t know if he would even want to see me again. This Romeo and Juliet stuff was messing with my head. I woke up early the morning after my show. It seemed stupid and girlish as soon as I did it, but I sat on my doorstep just in case Dimitri came by. We always did Saturday morning dates. Then again, I always stayed over his house Friday nights.

I was chewing on my lip, considering just going inside when a big Cadillac pulled up to my curbside. I didn’t move from my spot on the steps, but raised an eyebrow at the driver.

“Nice ride,” I tried to mimic the disdainful tone he used when he noted my brand new hair. I could tell it didn’t convince him though, my face gave me away. God, I begged him to buy one of these since forever. I think it’s just about the slickest car ever. And I told him, all those other uppity businessmen have them, why not you? Still, he always insisted we were fine without it.

“Well, you’re just about the prohibition in curls.” He said, noting my rebelliousness, “you need to ride like it.” I gave in so fact, climbed into the car, but stared him down.

“You’re still not my lover anymore.” I stated, sticking with the stubbornness that had gotten me in trouble so many times before. He nodded, pulling onto the roads.

“I figured you might forgive me if you could wave to all your new flapper friends from a shiny new car,” He paused, “You know, now that I have all day to drive you around.” I turned in my seat to try to read his expression, but his eyes stayed locked on the road.

“Gonna explain that?” I questioned him, and he shrugged. God, he’s infuriating, acting like our whole relationship isn’t shaped around what he’s gonna say next.

“I bought us a Cadillac, drove it right over to my bosses house, and quit.” He paused, and a smile broke out on my face. “Now, I’ve been gone, but you’re still my lady, and if you’re not behind my door, I don’t even have a home.” I paused, contemplating, but answered as sweetly as I know how.

“I guess I’ll have to grow my hair back out then.” I said, feeling the wind from the road rush over my face and making my short hair dance. I thought one last thing over before turning back to him, as he stopped at a red light. He locked eyes with me, and I stuck my chin up up at him. “How were you so confident we would work out?” He shrugged nonchalantly, his left hand on top of the steering wheel, the other resting on my knee.

“Lovers come, lovers go” He answered simply, but his smug smile said that he always knew I’d come back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> So hey! That was my first fic ever, I hope you liked it! Definitely expect more works from me, and please let me know any feedback you have, I would appreciate it so much. All of my work will be crossposted on fanfiction.net, so check me out there too! I'm Sydney, that's me for now, if you want to introduce yourself please do, and thanks for the read!  
> \- Syd


End file.
